Mortality
by LiGi
Summary: Jeff Tracy must face the one thing no father ever wants to face. Written for the TIWF 'Face the Fear' Challenge.


**A/N – This is my entry to the TIWF 'Face the Fear' challenge. Edited a tiny bit since the challenge thanks to my brilliant beta Kaet Huntacwene.**

**Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own Thunderbirds or the Tracys.**

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><p><strong>Mortality<strong>

_September 2063_

Jeff Tracy was a busy man. After waking at six-thirty in his private suite on the top floor of Tracy Tower, he had hurriedly washed and dressed then, grabbing a cup of coffee and a granola bar from the cupboard, called the elevator and made his way down to the office level of the tower.

By the time his personal assistant came in at eight-thirty, bringing him a large cappuccino from the coffee shop across the road, he had already read through all the morning's news, signed several contracts and done thorough background checks on the three new applicants for the Assistant Manager of Sales job.

"Jeff." Lydia placed the coffee on the desk in front of Jeff, then put a hand on the armrest of his chair and swivelled it around so he was facing her. "What time did you get down here this morning?"

"Eight?" he replied with the guilty expression of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She just raised one eyebrow at him. "Ok, seven, but I couldn't sleep and I had to get these contracts signed." He waved a hand at the papers strewn across his desk.

"And I'll bet you didn't have any breakfast, did you?"

"Ah, that would be where you're wrong. I had a granola bar."

"Oh wow, real filling." Lydia sighed. "Look Jeff, your first meeting is at half past nine, which gives you an hour to waste right now, so I suggest you march back up those stairs and get yourself a proper breakfast."

"There aren't any stairs, there's only an elevator," Jeff said, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"It's a figure of speech, Jeff!" He laughed and Lydia dragged him from his seat and gave him a push towards the door. "I don't want to see your ugly face until quarter past nine, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff smirked, mock saluted and headed into the elevator. Lydia had been his personal assistant for nearing on twelve years and was one of Jeff's closest friends. She was like the older sister he'd never had, despite the fact she was eight years younger than him.

The elevator door was just closing when he spotted the cappuccino still on his desk, he stuck a hand out to stop the door and made a beeline for the coffee. Grabbing it, he ducked his head as Lydia glared at him and hurried back to the elevator. She smacked him lightly on the back of the head with a pad of paper as he passed and he turned to grin at her once he'd reached the safety of the elevator.

Once back in his suite of rooms, he rummaged around in the fridge until he found some sausages. Sausage sandwich it was then. He whistled as he fried the sausages and spread ketchup on two slices of bread, only stopping the tune to swear at himself when he splattered ketchup over his shirt and tie.

He demolished the sandwich in a few bites and drained the cappuccino, then dumped the paper coffee shop cup in the trash and the plate and frying pan in the sink to wash up later. Grumbling as he made his way into the bedroom, he found a clean shirt and a new tie, bright red and orange stripes unfortunately, not nearly as sophisticated as the dark green one he had been wearing. He sighed, this tie had been bought on an afternoon when Scott and John had both been out with friends so Jeff had had to take Gordon and Alan with him to the clothes store when he took Virgil to buy a suit for his end of eighth grade dance. Luckily for Virgil, the youngest two had been distracted looking at all of the whacky patterned ties so they hadn't interfered too much with Virgil's choices. Unluckily for Jeff, the youngest two had been distracted looking at whacky patterned ties so he had ended up buying several just to keep them quiet. The red and orange was one of the more subtle ones they had chosen.

He sighed again, then combed his hair, cleaned his teeth and headed back down to the office, ignoring Lydia's scowl when he realised it was only ten past nine. Although it turned out Mr Ramirez and his team of advisers arrived early, Jeff greeting them just after quarter past. He showed them into the meeting room and Mr Ramirez sat down opposite him. He was a few years younger than Jeff, obviously of Spanish decent and was wearing a smart black suit with, Jeff noticed, a simple navy blue tie. Mr Ramirez looked him up and down, his eyes lingering for a second on his shirtfront then he quirked a smile.

"Nice tie."

"Thanks," Jeff grimaced. "My sons chose it for me."

"How old are they?"

"Well, they're twenty and nineteen now, but they were about eleven and twelve, I think when they-" Jeff searched for the right word, "_coerced_ me into buying this."

Mr Ramirez laughed. "And you've kept it all of these years. You must really love your sons."

_What a stupid thing to say,_ Jeff thought, of course he loved his sons.

"Yes," was all he said. "Now, Mr Ramirez, I understand you have some new designs for a commercial jet and you need funding from Tracy Enterprises."

* * *

><p>The meeting was successful but long. Jeff agreed to fund Mr Ramirez's new jet so long as twenty-five percent of all future profits from Ramirez Jets came back to Tracy Enterprises. It had been a fairly simple deal without too much negotiating but somehow the meeting had ended up taking three and a half hours and by the end of it Jeff was starving.<p>

He bid goodbye to Mr Ramirez and his team and plodded back to his office, his face lighting up when he saw a chicken Caesar sandwich and a bowl of potato salad on his desk, along with a fresh cup of cappuccino. He ate his lunch whilst reading through emails, printing off pages here and there and paper-clipping them in subject groups.

One report in particular from one of his top engineers, Mr Miles, caught his attention; it was the results from the test flight of a helijet with the improved engine Virgil had configured. He printed them out and found himself pacing around the office as he read them.

"Jeff," Lydia called as she opened the door to his office. "Coffee's up. Decaf."

Jeff pulled a face, after his third coffee of the day Lydia always switched him to decaf.

"Thanks, Lydia."

"I don't know why I bother making you drinks sometimes. There's plenty of interns that would be happy to make your coffee just so they could get a chance to be in the same room as you for thirty seconds," Lydia grumbled.

"But none of them would make it as well as you do, honey," Jeff said with a smile and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head as he took the mug.

"Kiss-ass," she muttered, leaving Jeff pouting in a way that would make Alan proud.

He looked down at the coffee, it was, as usual, in his favourite mug; the 'World's Greatest Dad' mug that Gordon had given him for Father's day several years ago. He took a gulp of coffee and resumed his pacing, re-reading through the print outs of the reports Mr Miles had emailed him. He looked up from the papers when the phone rang, then reached over and picked it up, dropping the reports beside his computer and perching on the side of the desk.

"Hello, this is Jeff Tracy."

"Mr Tracy, I am Captain Ben Anderson from the World Aquanaut Security Patrol and this call is regarding your son, Gordon…"

Jeff felt his heart swell with pride, the last time Captain Anderson had called was to tell him Gordon had been promoted to Sub-Lieutenant and that he was invited to the official ceremony to celebrate. Of course, Gordon had already called his father half an hour before to tell him the amazing news, but Jeff had still enjoyed being told what an excellent young man his son was.

But a second later the warm happy feeling was replaced by such pain it felt like sharp icy knives were being plunged into his stomach and a vice was being tightened around his heart. For the next words from the captain's mouth were words no father ever wants to hear.

"I am so sorry to have to tell you this, Mr Tracy, especially over the phone, but your son has been in an accident…"

The coffee mug slipped from Jeff's grasp, hitting the corner of the desk and smashing before falling to stain the cream carpet. He pushed the chair out from under his desk and slowly sank onto it, still trying to listen to the horrifying news from the captain, but a deep roaring sound was filling his head and he only caught half of the captain's words.

"… travelling at over four hundred knots… hydrofoil capsized … there was nothing he could have done to stop the crash… craft was totally shattered… critical condition… hospital in Oceanside…"

Jeff latched onto the last comment.

"Which hospital? Where?"

"The St Brendan specialist hospital in Oceanside, California."

"Thank you."

"Again, I'm very sorry, Mr Tracy. Gordon was a fine Sub-Lieutenant."

"What do you mean _was_?" Jeff hissed. "He's still alive, isn't he?" He felt his heart stutter and his voice cracked on the last few words.

"Sorry, yes, yes he is. He's alive… at the moment. I'm not going to lie to you, sir, he didn't look good."

It took Jeff a few moments to calm himself enough to answer and when he did his voice shook terribly. "Thank you Captain. I shall fly over immediately."

"Sir."

Jeff dropped the phone back onto its cradle and stared at it. He felt numb. He couldn't get his brain around it, his son was lying in a hospital, dying. His Gordon, who never stopped smiling and could always brighten everyone's day just by being around.

Ever since he had lost Lucy seventeen years ago, Jeff had feared more than anything another of his family being snatched away from him. He'd never thought of it before her death. Yes, people died all the time. You heard about them on the news, it was terrible and sad, but it was other people, unknown faces, you never expected it to be your own family. It wasn't until Lucy died that Jeff really appreciated how heartbreaking death was. How it could tear a family apart and break a person. How it could destroy everything good in your life and leave you feeling empty and cold. He'd lost his wife, his beloved Lucy and had thought nothing could ever make him smile again. He'd thought he'd never see his sons smile again. And then one day, several months later, Gordon had started laughing, Jeff couldn't even remember why, but the boy's laughter had been infectious and it didn't take long before Virgil and little Alan had joined in and after a while even Scott and John, who seemed to have been suffering worse than their younger brothers, had quirked smiles and laughed with their little brother.

It was that day, when Jeff had smiled down at his boys, that he realised how much he needed them, how without them he wouldn't have made it through the grief of Lucy's death. But also, he had realised how _mortal_ they all really were. You never think about your own mortality or that of your loved ones until that same mortality fails one of them. And from then on Jeff had carried the crushing thought that he could lose any one of his boys at any time, a blinding terror he could not shake. And now it lay heavy on his heart, very much a _real_ fear.

"Lydia!" Jeff leapt to his feet and wrenched open his office door.

"Jeff? What-"

"There's been an accident. Gordon… I have to go. Get the helijet prepped, I want it ready to leave in five minutes. And call the airport, tell them to be waiting with my jet and a pilot. And get me the phone number of St Brendan's Hospital in Oceanside, California."

Jeff sprinted to the elevator, drumming his fingers impatiently against the wall as he waited for it to climb up the tower. Once in his rooms, his brain went into autopilot, he grabbed a bag from the top shelf of the closet and started stuffing clothes into it, snatching up handfuls of cloth, not really caring if he had complete matching outfits or just a mismatched collection of t-shirts and pants. He dashed into the bathroom and gathered his wash things together into a bag and threw it into the overnight bag on his bed. Heading into the kitchen he pulled a thermos flask from the cupboard and as an afterthought picked up the box of granola bars, more because he knew Lydia would tell him to rather than any desire to eat them. He couldn't even stomach the thought of eating anything right now, his insides were tied in tight painful knots that squeezed whenever a thought of Gordon entered his mind.

Lydia gently pulled the thermos from his hand when he re-entered the office and headed to the coffee machine in the corner. Jeff shut the lid of his laptop and forced it into the bag with his clothes and pocketed his cell phone, then took the filled thermos from Lydia and gave her a quick hug. She handed him a piece of paper.

"This is the number for the hospital, I have already rung ahead and told them you will be arriving. The jet is ready to go as soon as you get to the airport and the helijet is on the roof."

"Thank you, Lydia."

"Jeff." She caught his hand before he turned. "He'll be alright," she said sincerely. "Call me when you can."

Jeff nodded and ran back to the elevator, stabbing the button for the roof.

The five minute helijet journey to the airport seemed like hours. Everything was a blur as they landed at the airport and Jeff exited the helijet, automatically thanking the pilot and walking over to the runway which held his private jet. It wasn't until he heard a voice telling him they had reached cruising altitude and he could remove his seatbelt that he realised they had taken off and were on the way to California. He had blanked out the real world, images and memories flashing through his mind instead. Gordon as a newborn baby, blinking up at him with huge amber eyes from a cocoon of blue blankets cradled in Lucy's arms. A tiny ginger one year old trying to wrap his too short arms around another blue bundle in Lucy's arms. A ten year old Gordon, proudly telling anybody who would listen that he was an adult now because his age had two numbers in it. All five boys playing like little children in the deep snow that had fallen their last Christmas in Kansas before they moved to the Island, Gordon, at sixteen, hiding remarkably well considering his bright turquoise coat and leaping out with armfuls of snowballs at his brothers. The five boys laughing…

Oh God, he had to tell the boys. How was he supposed to tell his sons that their brother was in hospital fighting for his life? Jeff didn't even want to say the words out loud. He had to tell them. They'd be crushed when they found out. But it would be much worse if something happened to Gordon and they hadn't known.

Jeff pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He'd turned it off earlier whilst in the meeting and it took what seemed to Jeff like ages to turn back on again, trilling its happy little tune as it came to life. It beeped to let him know he had a voicemail and Jeff automatically pressed accept, holding the phone to his ear.

"_Hey Dad, it's Gordon-"_

The cell slipped from Jeff's fingers and clattered on the floor, Gordon's voice still echoing in his mind. He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep shaking breath, then reached down and picked it back up, pressing a button to start the message from the beginning again.

"_Hey Dad, it's Gordon. Just wanted to chat to someone. I'm so excited, actually kinda nervous… nah excited, definitely. Your cell's off though, well obviously you know that. It's, uh, eight-fifteen here so that would make it… eleven-fifteen in New York? Yes? Anyway, you're probably in a meeting so I'll have a chat with your voicemail."_ Gordon laughed and Jeff felt his heart squeeze at the carefree sound. _"I have the test run this morning of that new hydrofoil speedboat I told you about. You should see her, Dad; she's the most gorgeous craft I've ever seen. And the engineers say she can get up to at least four hundred and fifty knots, yeah, you heard me right, _fourhundred_! I know we all say Alan and Scott are the speed freaks, but I think I see where they're coming from. The simulator I've been practicing in only gets up to three hundred knots and that's amazing, so four hundred… wow! Anyway I have to go, Captain Anderson's ordered me to do twenty minutes swimming and hit the gym for half an hour, then have a good breakfast and be in his office by nine-thirty. Bye Dad. I'll call you later tonight to tell you how it went! Love you, bye."_

Jeff choked back a sob and let the cell fall from his hand again. Gordon sounded so happy, so excited about his upcoming test of the hydrofoil. Not knowing that the test he was so excited about could very well be the last thing he ever did.

No. Not the last thing. Gordon _would_ survive this. He had to, Jeff couldn't lose anyone else.

Fumbling in his pocket, Jeff found the number for the hospital and dialled it, his hands shaking so much it took three attempts to get it right. It was agony waiting for someone to answer the phone on the other end of the line but eventually he got through.

"Hello, St Brendan's Hospital, ICU ward. Natalie speaking."

"My son, Gordon Tracy, is in the hospital. He was in a speedboat crash. Is he… how is he? I want to talk to a doctor."

"Ah, Mr Tracy. Your assistant rang, Lydia Young, and told us you would be in contact-"

"I know that," Jeff snapped. "How's my son?" There was a slight pause and Jeff muttered, "Sorry."

"That's alright, Mr Tracy. I'm an ICU nurse, I know how stressful it can be for relatives of patients. I also know how horrible this will be to hear, but I'm afraid I can't tell you anything now. It's against hospital policy to divulge information over the telephone. All I can tell you is that your son was brought in about an hour ago and is now in surgery. Some of the finest doctors in the state are working on him."

"Thank you." Jeff hung up, restraining himself from throwing the cell phone. He knew it wasn't the nurse's fault but he couldn't bear talking to her anymore. He dropped his cell phone onto the table beside his chair and massaged his knuckles; he had punched the wall when the nurse had told him she couldn't tell him about Gordon. He couldn't decide whether the phone call had been worth it or not. Yes, it was comforting to know the doctors working on his son were good at their jobs. But it wasn't comforting in the slightest knowing that Gordon was in surgery and Jeff would have to wait four and a half hours until he was at the hospital in person to find anything out. Jeff hated waiting. Something he and Gordon had in common. Jeff could still remember a time when Gordon was seven and Jeff had taken the boys on a day out to the aquarium but got the opening times wrong and they'd had to wait in the car for half an hour before they could go in. Gordon had sat swinging his legs and fidgeting and asking every five seconds if they could go in yet.

Jeff scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He took a deep breath and pushed the speed dial button for Scott. It rang four times before cutting to his voicemail.

"Call me back as soon as you get this, Scott. It's important."

Taking another deep breath, Jeff next called John. The blond answered almost immediately.

"Dad? Hi, why are you calling so early in the morning?"

"Did I wake you?" Jeff asked gruffly, trying to work out the time difference to Australia.

"No, I just got up. Father, what's wrong? You sound terrible, are you ill?" John's voice was filled with concern.

"Johnny, sit down, I have some bad news." Jeff paused, trying to decide the best way to break it to his son. "Gordon's been in an accident. He's alive, but it's serious."

"Was it the hydrofoil?"

Jeff shut his eyes and swallowed back a sob. "Yes. He crashed it – no, that makes it sound like it was his fault. It crashed. He was going at four hundred knots…"

"Oh hell… Where is he?"

"St Brendan's hospital in Oceanside."

"I guess I'm right to assume you're on the way there?"

"Yes."

"Have you told the others?"

"I got Scott's voicemail. I haven't called Virgil or Alan yet."

"Ok, Dad, you call Alan; he'll need to hear this from you. I'll call Virgil, then I'm going to get the first flight possible to Colorado and collect Alan. We need to all be together right now."

Jeff nodded, then realising John couldn't see him over the phone said, "Ok. Call me as soon as you get your flight details sorted. And thank you, John."

"Are you sure you're alright, Father?"

"As alright as I can possibly be in this situation," Jeff replied with a weak smile.

"Ok, well, I'll talk to you soon, Father."

"I love you, John."

"You too."

John hung up and Jeff stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, marvelling at the calm and sensible way John had taken the news and organised the plan. It was this quiet confidence that made Jeff sure John would be a wonderful space monitor when they finally got International Rescue up and running.

_If_ they got International Rescue up and running. Jeff had planned it for all five of his sons, he had gone over plans and designs with all five of them and he intended to start operations with all five of them. He'd wanted to start the outfit so that other families wouldn't have to go through the same grief the Tracys had gone through when they lost Lucy, but if they lost Gordon as well… Would the boys want to spend their time saving strangers lives when the lives of two of their own family had been snatched away so cruelly? Would they even be able to save their _own_ lives from crumbling with pain and sorrow as Jeff's had after Lucy's death? Could they go on without their brother? Could Jeff go on without his son?

Without seeing the grin on Gordon's face as he shook water from his hair after his morning swim? Without hearing his gleeful laugh when one of his brothers fell victim to a prank, again? Without feeling his warmth when he suddenly decided he wanted a hug for no apparent reason other than to be close?

He knew one son who would fall apart without Gordon. And it was the one son who he had to call and tell that it was a possibility they would lose him. Alan.

The phone rang three times before Alan answered it.

"Hey Dad. What's up?" Alan sounded so relaxed and cheerful, Jeff hated to bring his mood down.

"Alan…"

"Dad, you're kinda freaking me out," Alan's voice held a hint of suspicion, but mostly he sounded confused.

"Allie, sit down. I have… I have bad news, about Gordon. He's been in an accident. He-" Alan cut him off.

"What do you mean 'been in an accident'? Is he ok? What kind of accident? He's not hurt, is he?"

He'd known Alan wouldn't be as calm as John had been and he could hear panic edging into his words.

"He was testing a new hydro-"

Alan interrupted again. "That hydrofoil speedboat? The one he's been going on about for weeks? Did something go wrong with it?"

"It crashed and-"

"Shit. Dad, he's _not_ ok, is he? He's hurt and… oh God… he's not… not-"

"Alan, listen to me," Jeff said firmly. "He's alive." He heard Alan let his breath out in a gust. "Alan. I'm not going to sugar coat the truth and tell you everything is fine. Gordon is hurt, seriously, and he's in hospital. I'm on my way there now-"

"I want to be there"

"John is flying over to you as soon as possible, you can come to the hospital together."

"But Dad! I can fly. I can get to the airport in twenty minutes, and get a jet-"

It was Jeff's turn to interrupt Alan. "No, son. You'll wait until John comes to collect you."

"But-"

"No, Alan."

"Ok. Dad," Alan said quietly, his voice suddenly sounding much younger and scared. "How long until Johnny gets here?"

"I don't know, son, I'm sorry. But he's going to catch the soonest flight he can, he'll call you once he has it all arranged."

"Ok. I'm, uh, I'm going to call Johnny. Bye Dad."

"I love you, Alan."

"Love you, bye."

And the call disconnected.

"_Love you, bye."_ The last words he had heard Gordon say as well, on the voicemail. Jeff pressed the button to access the message, listening again to his son's excited voice, his mind pulling out more memories of his redheaded son. A small Gordon of three following Lucy around while she got dressed for an evening out, spritzing himself with her perfumes while 'helping' her decide which one to wear. Teenaged Gordon, beaming as he introduced Lexie, his first proper girlfriend, holding her hand and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek when he thought no one was looking. And fully grown, standing in front of a crowd as his Commander presented him with the title of Sub-Lieutenant, promoted over older men because of his skill.

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><p>By the time the plane landed in California, on a little private airstrip near the hospital, Jeff's eyes were red-rimmed and his hair was unruly where he'd been running his hands through it. He scrubbed at his face and tried to smooth his creased jacket out before leaving the plane and heading through the daunting front doors of the hospital.<p>

He found his way to the ICU where he met Natalie, the nurse who he'd spoken to on the phone. She told him Gordon was still in surgery, that he'd sustained major internal injuries as well as broken bones throughout his body.

She led him to the operating room, where there was a big window so he could see the surgeons working furiously over his son. He could only look for a few seconds before he had to turn away. He couldn't bear to look at his son so still, so broken, so covered in blood.

He tried to drag happy thoughts back into his head. He pictured a nine year old Gordon, proudly showing off his plastic gold medal from the first swimming race he won. And a seventeen year old Gordon, grin threatening to split his face in two as he was presented with the real deal, an Olympic Gold medal.

He'd wanted to enter the Olympics again, next year. But from what Jeff could see, even if Gordon did make it through this alive, there was no way he would competitively swim again. His dreams, dashed, just like the hydrofoil.

Eventually, the surgeons lay down their tools and one stepped out of the room. Jeff tried not to look at the blood covering his scrubs.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Tracy. We've done absolutely everything we could, but there's a good chance Gordon won't make it through the night."

Jeff dropped his head into his hands, as broken emotionally as his son was physically. A man crushed by his worst fear.


End file.
